


A Chick Magnet

by MissKitsune08



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Thrawn Trilogy - Timothy Zahn
Genre: Gen, Noghri, Other, ysalamiri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-03 07:06:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13336002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissKitsune08/pseuds/MissKitsune08
Summary: Pure crack: It'sthattime of the year aboard theChimaera. Written for Thrawn Appreciation Week, Prompt: Pets.





	A Chick Magnet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ImperialGirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImperialGirl/gifts).



> Author’s Note: For ImperialGirl. Here is your crackfic, and I want the next chapter of _TIE Fighter: Resurrection_ ASAP!

"Sir?" Pellaeon let out a discreet cough, hesitantly looking at Grand Admiral Thrawn who had been sitting in the command chair on the _Chimaera_ ’s bridge.

"Yes, Captain?" Thrawn replied absentmindedly, gently rubbing the belly of an ysalamir that had been sitting on his lap the entire alpha shift, softly purring in content, making loud noises at random, disturbing the ship’s daily routine.

Before Pellaeon could come up with a way how to explain to his alien commander that it wasn't good for his reputation to be publicly seen petting an over-sized lizard in front of the whole bridge crew, the ysalamir turned its head and suggestively flicked its long tongue in Pellaeon's direction.

Pellaeon only barely suppressed a scowl.

"You have to excuse Miss Kitsune, Captain," Thrawn said in a soft, tender tone, so extremely out of character for the cold, reserved grand admiral. "She is in estrus."

 _Miss Kitsune?!_ _By the Nine Hells of Corellia, he_ _even_ named _the_ _infernal_ _beast?_

Today, the ysalamir smelled even worse than usual. In estrus? Could it be pheromones? Thrawn couldn’t have possibly found the female ysalamir’s body odor appealing, could he?

But then, Thrawn was an alien, with alien mind, and with alien senses, including the sense of smell. It was entirely possible the infernal beast’s pheromones were the reason why Thrawn behaved so out of character today.

"Grand Admiral Thrawn!" came a thundering voice of Jedi Master Joruus C'Baoth from the far end of the bridge, making Pellaeon instinctively step closer to Thrawn’s command chair, deeper into the Force-free bubble.

"Yes, Master C’Baoth?" Thrawn calmly raised his eyes to meet the gaze of the madman. C'Baoth looked furious enough to unleash his lightning bolts at them if it weren’t for the over-sized lizard.

"Where are my Jedi, Grand Admiral Thrawn!"

C'Baoth must have shouted loud enough for the entire ship to hear, making his way past the bridge’s security, boldly marching towards Thrawn’s command chair.

Pellaeon swallowed hard. Just what the needed right now. Another one of the mad clone’s childish temper tantrums.

 _Onna fulle guth!_ Pellaeon cursed inwardly in Old Corellian when the female ysalamir suddenly jumped out of Thrawn's lap and landed on Pellaeon’s shoulders, making herself comfortable, wrapping her tail around Pellaeon’s neck, and licking his face with her forked tongue.

Given the Jedi Master's presence, there was nothing Pellaeon could do but to endure the unwelcome advances of the female ysalamir who apparently considered him a suitable candidate for mating.

Thrawn straightened in his chair and then leaned forward, steepling his fingers in front of his face, as if overly-amorous female ysalamiri latching themselves on the ship's captain had been an everyday occurrence aboard the _Chimaera_.

"Master C'Baoth, we have talked about this," Thrawn said in a patient tone that reminded Pellaeon of a parent used to dealing with a toddler’s temper tantrum, not even a hint of irritation creeping into the calm, steady voice.

"The Noghri will bring the Jedi to you in due time."

Pellaeon suppressed a shudder as he felt the female ysalamir rub against him in an inappropriate manner, which unfortunately didn’t go unnoticed by the madman. 

C'Boath frowned, looking at the scene with clear revulsion, then he made a scornful sound and turned his attention back to Thrawn.

 _Min min vil ut valle Nharquis_ , the worst Old Corellian curse. He'd eat eat the ashes of the mad clone _and_ the stinking beast, Thrawn's favorite pet or not.

The glowing red eyes briefly flickered over to the unfolding scene but the alien chose not to comment on the matter, keeping his face expressionless, the best sabbac face in the universe.

Pellaeon clenched his fists in anger.

This was humiliating beyond belief! And the entire bridge crew was no doubt watching. He’d have the hide of anyone who dared as much as to smirk at their commanding officer.

"In due time, Master C’Baoth," Thrawn let out a small, non-committal shrug. "I am afraid all Noghri are occupied at the moment."

"What are they doing, then?!" C'Baoth bellowed.

"They are having their reproductive cycle now." Thrawn cocked up a blue-black eyebrow, leaning back in his chair comfortably, and crossed his arms in a self-explanatory gesture.

Pellaeon froze, the stinking beast rubbing against him forgotten. The Noghri were in heat, too?

"Ehm," he begun awkwardly, ignoring the hard glare he received from the mad Jedi clone for daring to interrupt their conversation.

"Sir, how many female Noghri are there aboard the _Chimaera_?"

 

**THE END**

 

Run, Pellaeon, run.

You can all go green with envy, I got petted by Thrawn and rubbed against Pellaeon. What a self-insert. *maniacal evil laugh*


End file.
